


To Die or Not to Die

by Fire_Bear



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (I'll add more tags later see notes about that), (probably at some point), Fist Fights, Gun Violence, M/M, Sniper Lance (Voltron), Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-19 08:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22508083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: When Lance was a young boy, he became involved in a mission of one of the greatest spies in British Intelligence's history. In awe of his hero, he became determined to become the ultimate spy.Despite all the ridicule and the difficulty, Lance finally makes it - but what sort of missions will he have to deal with? And will anyone solve the mystery of Takashi Shirogane's disappearance?
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	To Die or Not to Die

**Author's Note:**

> I... I told myself I was only going to update stories this year but... 
> 
> Anyway, this came about because I was reading a lot of 00Q fan fiction recently. (In case people aren't aware, this is the ship between James Bond and Q from the James Bond universe. I think it's specifically for Daniel Craig's Bond and Ben Whishaw's Q. I definitely haven't seen any of the other Bonds or Qs in it. Mainly cause I've only been reading a select few.) Anyway, I'm rambling. The point is that I decided a Voltron/James Bond crossover would be fun.
> 
> Unfortunately, I have yet to decide the rest of the plot - I just really wanted to write the first chapter because it can stand alone and it was fun.

It had started out as a lovely day. 

The day before, Lance had recited a poem entirely in English and, when the teacher had asked him if he knew what it meant, Lance was able to tell her. His grandfather had lived in England for a brief time when he was a child and he had helped Lance with his project while his parents were busy working. Before the poem, Lance hadn’t really had a desire to learn more English than he already knew. Now, though, he was excited to learn more and show off in class. 

As a special treat, Lance’s parents had decided to take the family to the beach, leaving their grandparents to tend the farm for them. Lance had been ecstatic and they’d spent most of the day there. He had made sandcastles and swam in the ocean and even tried out the kite he had gotten for his birthday. Veronica had taken him to the rock pools and they’d collected shells and small creatures before they’d released them. Lance had kept a large, twisting seashell that was a deep blue. 

Towards the end of the day, when Lance had begun to get tired (though as a grown up eight year old, he’d never admit it), they had all gotten dressed. Lance’s blue t-shirt was covered in sand, but he didn’t care. His mother had beat at it once he’d pulled it on, trying to get rid of as much of it as possible. Thankfully, his shorts were cleared of sand by his father before he pulled those on and stepped into his sandals. Then his family made an excursion to the market.

Paintings and leather bracelets and other arts and crafts surrounded them. Tourists cooed at the items and ‘haggled’ with the dealers in broken Spanish. Lance had once asked his father why they did that, and his father had said that it was so they needed to spend less. Somehow, that felt wrong to Lance, though he wasn’t sure he understood it properly so maybe he was wrong. When his sister stopped them to look at something, his father asked him if he wanted anything. But Lance just grinned and lifted his shell; it was all he really needed as a souvenir of the day.

And that was when Lance’s life changed forever.

While his family crowded around the stall, Lance stayed in the middle of the thoroughfare, jumping over cracks in the ground. He was so busy pretending that he was making death-defying jumps from one cliff to another that he didn’t notice the people coming straight towards him. It wasn’t until he heard someone cry out from further along the road that he looked up, standing from his crouched position. His eyes widened as he watched what was happening.

People were being pushed aside by someone wearing a messy suit; they fell into stalls or other people or landed on their hands and knees. The man’s black hair stuck up in all directions and there was blood smeared on his cheek. He was running through the crowd with someone behind him, focussed solely on getting through the market. At one point, he leapt over a pile of paintings, sending them toppling across the street.

He was also carrying a gun.

Before Lance could run for his mother, the man was almost upon him. Lance flinched and, in the same instant, the man’s foot caught on a crack and he was sent flying. He landed with a harsh-sounding thud. His gun flew from his hand and slid along the street. It clattered to a stop at Lance’s feet and he stared down at it, unsure as to what to do. Slowly, he looked up at the man who was glowering up at him. The eyes that captured Lance’s gaze were a steely grey, burning with a sharp, toxic intensity. Lance had barely drawn in a breath when the man scrambled to his feet, grabbed the gun - and grabbed Lance’s arm to yank him against the man’s chest.

The seashell slipped from his fingers and he didn’t have a chance to see what happened to it before the man pressed the gun against his head.

Lance went completely still and the person who had been behind the man slowed to a stop. It was another man, this one with a paler skin colour. He also had black hair, though it had been cut short enough that it didn’t look too messy from his run. The dark suit he wore was a little better fitting than the first man’s. There was also a gun in his hand and he was pointing it straight at the guy who had Lance. His eyes flicked to Lance very briefly.

At that moment, Lance’s family seemed to notice his predicament. “Lance!” his mother screamed. Whimpering, Lance tried to turn his head to see her, but the man jerked him even closer to him.

“Back off, Shirogane,” snarled the Bad Man, in English. Lance only just knew enough of the language to understand him.

“Let him go, García,” Shirogane calmly replied. “He has nothing to do with this.”

“No!” snapped García. “You’re going to let me leave the market without-” Lance lost track of what he was saying as his mother shouted again. He could hear her tears. When he tried to make out what was being said again, he only caught part of it. “Lower the ---. Now!”

The good guy - Shirogane - paused. He looked over at Lance who stared back, scared of what was happening. When he looked back at García, Shirogane lifted one of his hands and held it up in a placating gesture. “Okay,” he said to García.

“But-!” Lance began, trying to take a step forward. García growled and jerked Lance back towards him. Lance whimpered with fear, tears starting to prick at his eyes. 

“Hey,” said Shirogane. Looking up, Lance found Shirogane still in the process of lowering his gun, though he was looking straight at Lance. Suddenly, Shirogane was speaking in Spanish. “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay. You’re going to be fine.”

“Shut up!” snapped García in English. “Put it down.”

Shirogane nodded and placed the gun gently on the ground. Then, slowly, he rose, speaking in English once more. “There is no need to ------- the boy -------. Let him go and you can leave the market in peace.”

“I’ll do what I want,” García snarled and, without warning, he lifted his gun from Lance, aimed at Shirogane and pulled the trigger. There was a loud bang that made Lance flinch away from the man, crying out in fear. Luckily, before his very eyes, Shirogane rolled out of the way. The bullet hit a photo frame behind him, shattering the glass and making it fall to the ground. Screams surrounded Lance; his mother was screaming his name as people began to run for cover.

However, instead of letting Lance go, the man grabbed him around the waist and hoisted him up to carry him as if he was a bag of flour. He cried out again, clawing at García’s arm and kicking his legs. García ignored him and turned in the direction he had been running. Before Lance knew it, he was being carried by a bad guy through the streets of Varadero. He twisted in the man’s grasp, trying to see his family. When he realised that he was too far away, he began to cry as he realised that he was trapped with the man.

* * *

García ran through the streets until he leapt onto a bus. He still had Lance in his arms and set him down in the seat beside him once he reached the middle of the vehicle. Then he angled himself so that the gun (that was still pointed at Lance) was hidden by his knee. With a grin, García pierced Lance with those sharp eyes and tucked a curl of Lance’s hair behind his ear. 

“See?” said García in Spanish. “I told you we would make it.”

Lance sniffled, rubbing at his eyes. García must want him to pretend to be with the man, Lance realised. So he nodded, biting his lip so that he didn’t start crying. Smiling with just his mouth, García ruffled Lance’s hair and turned his attention to the rest of the bus. With nothing else to do, Lance did the same. There was an old couple who were eyeing him as a target for receiving sweets. Several tourists were dotted about the vehicle. A woman with her earphones in was tapping out messages into her phone. The driver was too busy concentrating on the road to be paying attention to them.

He didn’t know what to do in this situation. If he said anything, the man would shoot him. There was no way to get off the bus without the man grabbing him again - he was trapped by the man and wouldn’t even manage to get into the aisle. No-one else knew where he was and even he didn’t know where they were going.

Before Lance could wallow in self pity for too long, the bus suddenly stopped, throwing everyone forward. García braced himself on the seat but Lance ended up on the floor in front of it when he slid off it. When everything stopped moving, Lance peered under the seats and realised that he might be able to crawl under them and away from the bad guy. But could he get away without alerting García?

Unfortunately for Lance, his hesitation allowed García to grab the neck of Lance’s t-shirt. He dragged him up to the seat and dropped him into it. “Stay put,” he snarled, low enough that no-one else would hear. With his head so close, Lance could see that his eyes were wild and dangerous. Scared again, Lance quickly nodded and shrank back into the seat. However, he didn’t get far before García grabbed his arm and pulled Lance into his side.

The gun poked into Lance’s leg and made him whimper.

By the time they had settled with Lance being held at García’s side, whoever had stopped the bus so suddenly had gotten on. Lance looked up and his heart leapt. The good guy had gotten on! He only caught a glimpse of him as he settled in the first available seat instead of approaching them. García still had his head turned towards Lance so he didn’t seem to see him. He certainly didn’t react to the sudden appearance of the man. Meanwhile, Shirogane slid along the bench he sat upon and turned his head to stare out of the window. With Shirogane effectively blending in with the other passengers, García didn’t seem to notice that he was still being followed.

Not wanting García to see Lance’s only chance of getting away from him, Lance whimpered a little, trying to keep the man’s attention on him. It worked, though it meant that Lance’s arm was squeezed far too tightly. He winced and tried to keep from crying out, knowing that he would be in trouble if he did. 

“Shut up,” García hissed in Spanish. “No more noises or I’ll make sure to hurt you.”

Lance bit his lip and nodded. 

Then the only noises to disturb them were the murmurs of voices around them, the mechanical noises of the bus, the beeping of horns from the other vehicles and Lance’s heavy breathing as he tried to keep himself calm. He only became more panicked the further they went. Outside, the streets changed to ones he had never gone down. Slowly, the houses and shops became bigger buildings, like warehouses rather like those that Lance had seen in movies. It would be the perfect place for the man to hide with Lance captive.

Suddenly, the man hit the button to stop the bus and, shifting his hand so he was gripping Lance’s tightly, he tugged Lance to his feet. Stumbling after him, Lance followed him to the front of the bus, reluctantly ignoring the old couple trying to get his attention. Shirogane was still in the first seat, though he looked like he had fallen asleep with his hand pressed to his side. Lance wondered if the bullet had actually hit him earlier and that he was dead now. His eyes widened and he tried not to let his tears fall. 

García thanked the driver as the bus pulled over. There was a boat waiting for him, he told the man. He added that his son - Lance - wanted to go sailing to see the stars at night. If it had been anyone else, Lance might have wanted to do exactly that. Instead, he turned his head, staring at Shirogane, willing him to wake up and help him. 

But Shirogane must have forgotten about them. The man didn’t move even as the bus slowed and pulled over. Lance began to feel frantic. He was much further from his mother and people he knew than he had ever been before. The sun was beginning to set. It would be dark soon, and Lance didn’t know the way home. 

So, in a moment of panic, just as the doors opened, Lance twisted in García’s hold and reached out to Shirogane. “Mister!” he exclaimed in Spanish. 

Shirogane jolted upright, suddenly alert, just as García scooped Lance up and ran from the bus. In no time at all, they were lost among the buildings and the shadows.

* * *

García dragged Lance past workers moving to and fro and through large, empty buildings. Apart from the few lights at the entrances of the buildings, darkness pressed against Lance. He felt as if all manner of bad things were lurking there, waiting to pounce. So he stumbled after the bad man and wished that he had shouted on Shirogane sooner. 

It seemed like hours and hours and hours had passed before the man suddenly ducked into an occupied building. Lance thought that it was further from the ocean than they had been, mainly because he could see and hear planes landing and taking off overhead. He thought that they might be near the airport, but he was that turned around that he didn’t know if he was even still in Varadero. 

Within the building were a series of cars - and a small plane. There would be just enough room for a pilot and a few rows of seats. It looked shiny and new and the man headed straight for it. There were a couple of men washing one of the cars off to the side and Lance perked up, wondering if he could get them to help him. However, at the last moment, García jerked Lance down a path between some boxes and shoved him down to the floor. Lance barely had the chance to cry out before García was yanking his arm up towards a pipe that ran the length of the wall. With a piece of rope that he pulled from around a precarious-looking crate, García tied Lance’s wrist to the pipe with a complicated knot. Whimpering, Lance opened his mouth to beg the man not to leave him there.

“No,” growled García in Spanish. “You will stay here and be quiet. If I hear one noise out of you, I will shoot you in the head.” For added emphasis, García pulled out the gun and jabbed the end of it into Lance’s forehead. Terrified, Lance stared at him with wide eyes, well aware that there were tears running down his cheeks. García seemed satisfied, grinning at Lance. “Yeah, that’s what I like to see. Now, behave, and I’ll give you a treat later.”

Lance bit his lip to keep himself from asking why there would be a later. Surely García could get away now without him? But he kept his questions to himself and nodded, trying to ignore the gun pressing against him more firmly. 

García’s grin widened. “There’s a good boy,” he said, in a tone that Lance had heard people using with their dogs. He put the gun away. Lance thought he was going to turn and leave, but the man reached his hand out again. Trying not to flinch, Lance bit his lip harder, tasting the same thing he had when he’d fallen and knocked out a loose tooth. But García didn’t hurt him: instead, the man placed his hand on Lance’s head and ruffled his hair. Then, almost gently, García ran his fingers down Lance’s temple in order to gently tuck a curl of hair behind his ear.

Finally, García turned and walked away, straightening out his clothes as he went, an air of satisfaction about him. Lance let himself cry, though he kept as quiet as possible. He still let out whimpers and sobs as he fell back against the wall, his arm stretched upwards in an odd angle. What was that man going to do with him? Would anyone come to save him?

Could he save himself?

With a glance along the tiny path, Lance held his breath. The distant murmur of voices reassured him that no-one would see him and he turned to the rope. As quickly as he could, he tugged on the rope, then at the knot itself. But, no matter how he twisted his fingers, he couldn’t get them into the knot in order to pull it apart. Whenever he pulled on the rope, it seemed to get tighter, squeezing his wrist and pulling him up further.

Eventually, he gave up and flopped down onto the floor. There was no way to get free and no-one coming to save him. The tears started to flow and Lance quickly clamped his hand over his mouth to keep from making noises, terrified of what would happen if García returned and found him sobbing. He would only have one more chance to get free and he felt scared - what if he messed it up and ended up stuck where he was?

A movement to his right startled Lance. With a stifled gasp, he turned to look and found the man from before squeezing through the gap between the boxes and the wall, careful not to nudge any. Shirogane’s gun was in his hand again, but he lowered it when he noticed that Lance was on his own. Whimpering, Lance shrunk down as much as possible: Shirogane hadn’t helped him on the bus, so maybe he had been wrong and Shirogane was another bad guy.

Keeping low, Shirogane tucked away his gun and raised his hands, gesturing towards the rope. Lance shuffled away from him, not sure what to do. Maybe García would want him to call out - maybe García wouldn’t hurt him if he did. Shirogane backed off, keeping his hands raised. When neither of them moved for a few moments, Lance spoke up.

“Who are you?” he asked in English.

Shirogane smiled. “I’m Takashi Shirogane,” he explained in English. “You can call me Shiro, if that’s easier.”

Lance tried it out. “Shiro…” He waited until the man had nodded to say, “Are you good? A good man?”

“Yes,” Shiro told him, nodding again. “I work for the British ---------- and I’m trying to stop García.”

“What’s…?” Lance scrunched up his nose in distaste as he repeated the word that Shiro had said.

“Ah.” Shiro switched to Spanish as he crouched down. “The British government. I’m a spy.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge. There was a little purple line on it, kind of like a v, kind of like the Star Trek badges. “This is special,” Shiro explained. “If you ever get into trouble, you can press this and the government will send someone to save you.”

“Really?” asked Lance, sceptically.

“Yeah. Now, will you let me untie you?”

Again, Lance hesitated. He wasn’t sure whether he should believe Shiro or not. Then again, this man hadn’t grabbed him and tied him up. So, with a reluctant nod, Lance held out his arm. Smiling, Shiro quickly untied him, his fingers deft and practiced. Lance watched him in awe.

“Okay,” said Shiro once Lance had pulled his hand free. “I need to go stop García from getting away. I need you to stay here. Stay hidden and quiet, and I’ll come back for you. Don’t move from here until I do.”

“What- What if you don’t?” Lance whispered, worried that he’d be left here forever.

“If it seems as though I have been gone for a long time, press that button,” Shiro replied as he handed over the gadget. “My friends will come to find you and take you home.”

“Okay,” Lance murmured, nodding to make sure that Shiro knew he understood.

Smiling, Shiro ruffled Lance’s hair - it was entirely different to the way that García touched him. It made Lance smile, reminding him of his father and his older brothers. “You’ve been very brave,” Shiro told him. “I’m sure you’d make a great spy, too.”

“Really?!” Lance imagined himself sneaking into evil organisations and fighting the bad guys like Shiro was about to. He’d be able to be a hero, just like Shiro was. Excited, Lance opened his mouth to ask when he could become a spy when he remembered that he had to stay quiet. 

“Yeah,” said Shiro before he rose to his feet. “Let me take care of this. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

With a nod and a smile, Lance watched Shiro go. He settled in to wait, listening to the roar of an engine as the plane started up. Running his fingers around the edge of the badge, Lance hoped that Shiro wouldn’t get hurt.

* * *

Lance didn’t see Shiro again that day. After the gunshots and shouting and the plane leaving, the man hadn’t returned. In fact, Lance hadn’t heard any of the men who had been in the warehouse either. When he felt like it had been too long and he was having trouble resisting the urge to go look at what had been left behind, he had pressed the button. 

A little while later, there had been movement beyond the boxes and people called out for Shiro. Lance squeezed out of his hiding spot and explained what had happened. The men had thanked them and one of them - the one with brown hair and glasses - knelt down to ask Lance questions in Spanish. Then they had driven him home and he had been deposited into his mother’s waiting arms where he cried and clung to her. The rest of his family had rushed to his side and Veronica gave him back his shell, the perfect blue one that now had a crack at the very edge of it. He held onto it tightly, though he made sure not to break it further, relieved to be back home with people he loved and knew well.

But he never forgot about Shiro… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have yet to decide on where Keith fits in. The rest of the tagged characters are there because I know what they'll be doing. (Though, now I think about it, I'm not sure if Kolivan will actually pop up.) I have two - no, wait, three - options: have Keith be a fellow agent and Lance's rival (kinda like in Brooklyn 99 with the tally but with slightly less flirting to begin with); have Keith be a fellow agent who's gone rogue in his attempt to find and save Shiro; have Keith be, essentially, a Bond girl and make him an agent of a different government that ends up working with Lance.
> 
> Pretty tempted by that last one, actually...


End file.
